


a kind of savage caring

by mrsronweasley



Series: Dick Series [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsronweasley/pseuds/mrsronweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank really, <i>really</i> loves dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a kind of savage caring

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to the Pete/Mikey fic ["(Something of an) In Between"](http://mrsronweasley.livejournal.com/914857.html). Think of this as a DVD extra. Unrepentant filth.
> 
> With huge, endless thanks to brooklinegirl for going absolutely above and beyond the call of duty on this beta, and to aneli8" for cheerleading and making starry-eyed faces at me. ♥ (The title comes from D. A. Powell's "Corydon & Alexis, Redux.")

After Pete Wentz stumbled off the bus, Frank sat on the couch for a full minute just trying to process what had just happened to his life. Then he legged it outside in the hopes of finding Gerard within two minutes, so he could fuck him for the next eighty years or so and live up to the reputation he'd just built up of himself for Pete fucking Wentz.

He worried for a moment about how he was even going to find Gerard in this madhouse of a tented sprawl, but luckily, Gerard was never difficult to pick out of a crowd. Just look for weirdo hair, a geeky slouch, and a dirty denim jacket and you had yourself the older Way. Frank spotted Gerard almost instantly and jogged up to him, reaching out to turn him around. He was really hoping Gerard wouldn't be doing that thing in his head where he was thinking about how important the cloud formation in the skies was to the manifestation of the super-ego in abstract impressionism, or whatever, because as much as Frank loved Gerard's ridiculous mind, now was not the time. He was already buzzing in anticipation.

When Gerard followed the turn of Frank's hands and placed him, his face split into a lop-sided grin.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed, and Frank exhaled. It was one of the easy times, then. He leaned up a little, bumped his nose against the soft line of Gerard's jaw. 

"Bus is still empty. Wanna?" he whispered. His lips rasped against the smallest hint of stubble on Gerard's cheek. He felt Gerard's small laugh escape and tickle his ear. Gerard's hand came up to rest on Frank's hip lightly. Frank was half-hard now and he let it be known with a small sway.

"Yeah," Gerard whispered back, hand tightening on Frank's hip minutely. "Think we can make it if we run?" 

Frank didn't need to be asked twice. He slipped his hand around Gerard's middle, the denim of his jacket sweaty under his touch, and led him quickly through the crowd. He would have broken into an actual run, but his hard-on was making it kind of difficult, as were Gerard's fingers drumming on Frank's ass as they moved. Frank threw him a dirty look and upped their pace, trying to avoid being stopped by the hundreds of people milling around and get to the bus before anybody else had a chance to thwart Frank's plans.

It was one of those rare times when Frank's luck won over. When they stepped onto the bus, it was totally deserted. Gerard bumped up behind him, shut the door after some fumbling with the handle, and led Frank by the shoulders to the very back, because he, apparently, loved antagonizing Ray and messing with his shit. Frank just snickered and allowed himself to be prodded forward. They stumbled a little on the way, Frank unbalanced and clumsy. Gerard wasn't any steadier and when Frank felt the press of his hips up against his ass, Gerard was half-cocked already.

"Fuck," Frank breathed out, and practically ran for the back lounge. Gerard pushed them both forward once, and they fell through the door. Frank only just managed to shut the door with his foot before turning Gerard around and pressing him up against it.

"Stay," he ordered, a bit breathlessly, and Gerard obeyed. He looked at Frank with curiosity, and Frank fucking loved that. He loved that Gerard would sometimes just go with him, wherever Frank wanted to take them. It turned Frank on harder than it possibly should have, but he never really examined it too closely. Gift, horse's mouth, and all that. 

He gave Gerard a kiss, made it dirty and anticipatory, like, _here is what I'm gonna do to you, just hang on_ , and Gerard panted against him. Frank slid to his knees. 

He looked up at Gerard when he began undoing his belt. Gerard's belts were mostly perfunctory, and never actually held up his pants or anything, so the buckle gave easily under Frank's fingers. He was still watching Gerard's face, his knees kind of melting beneath him. Gerard looked like wanted to eat Frank alive, but it was Frank's turn right now. All the dick talk earlier had gone kind of directly to his crotch, and now, all he could think about was Gerard's cock in his mouth, the weight and taste of it, the smell. 

"I wanna suck you off so much," he said, throat a little tight, eyes still locked with Gerard's. Gerard bit his lip, and Frank grinned as he undid the button on Gerard's jeans, slid down the zipper. "Want you to fuck my mouth, Gee." He palmed Gerard's dick through his briefs, sucked on his lower lip in anticipation, then slid his fingers under the waistband and pulled them down. "So much."

Frank loved Gerard's cock. Of all the ones he'd seen – and it hadn't been just a couple, put it that way – it was kind of the prettiest. Odd thing to think about a cock, but still true. Frank fucking loved it, more than just the act of giving head, too, it was kind of the fact of Gerard's cock that turned him on this hard. 

He bent forward and licked all the way down, tasting the sweat gathered at the base, and felt Gerard start to tremble. He put his hands on Gerard's hips to steady him and bent his head again. This time he opened his mouth wide and wrapped it sideways around the base, fluttering his tongue up the shaft. He knew it drove Gerard crazy, the heat and the pressure just starting, but not being enough to get him off, just enough to get him started. Frank grinned at the shudder that went through Gerard's thighs and lightly scraped his teeth where his tongue had just been. 

" _Fuck_." Gerard's voice seemed far away above him. Frank moaned when Gerard's hands wrapped around his head and squeezed his hair. He was so hard, his head spun, and he adjusted his dick with one hand, not wanting to get distracted. He had a goal here. He fluttered his tongue all the way up to the head of Gerard's cock, mapping it with his tongue like it was unknown territory. When he got to the crown, he looked up to make sure that Gerard was watching – he was, and he looked ready to set Frank on _fire_ \- and sucked it into his mouth. 

They both moaned, Frank because he'd kind of been thinking about this very thing the entire time he was talking to Pete about dick, and Gerard because he _really_ loved getting his dick sucked. Frank closed his eyes and relaxed his mouth. He let his hands fall down from Gerard's hips and deliberately – and slowly, so that Gerard would see and not in any way misinterpret – clasped them behind his back. 

He lowered his head more, went down. Deeper and deeper until he had most of Gerard's cock in his mouth, and then he sucked. He shuddered at the sensation of Gerard's dick hitting the back of his throat, leaking and throbbing inside his mouth. Through the rushing in his ears, he heard Gerard swear again, louder this time, almost panicked. Frank tried to moan – it was hard, but not impossible – and transmit his intentions through sheer will alone.

It took Gerard a moment, because it usually did, because he wasn't the sort of guy who just did this to people for shits and giggles, but eventually he got with the program. Frank stayed still as Gerard wrapped one hand around the base of his own cock, and then thrust into Frank's mouth, his other hand still clutching the back of Frank's head. Frank trembled. 

_Come on, Gee_ , he thought, and Gerard – finally – did. Still with one careful hand anchoring his cock, Gerard fucked his mouth – slowly and cautiously at first, testing his limits. When he reached none, because Frank was fucking _good_ at this, Gerard began upping the pace, thrusting harder and faster. 

His voice sounded shattered to Frank's ears, like Gerard was losing all control. Frank was good at that, too, good at undoing Gerard in about a minute, letting him use Frank the way Frank wanted to be used. 

"Frank, fuck –" Gerard panted over him, his voice gone hoarse. "Jesus, you look like a fucking – fuck, porn star, only –" Gerard moaned, stuttered out, then continued, whispering. "Better, you look like the filthiest, most - _fuck_ , you're amazing –"

Frank's hard-on was straining against his jeans. His knees dug into the hard floor and he spread them a little, letting his jeans press up against his cock, a touch of friction, with his hands still clasped tightly behind him. He felt the sweat gathering between his palms, squeezed them harder. He breathed deeply through his nose, swallowing down everything Gerard gave him with each thrust. Gerard's taste and smell were all over Frank, on his tongue and in his throat, and he reveled in it, wanted more. His hollowed out his cheeks, did his best to make encouraging noises, _anything_ to get Gerard to lose any control he might have left, to come in Frank's mouth and make his throat and lips sore for the next week. Frank felt his own saliva running down his mouth, and he loved that, too, loved the rawness of the human body, the way the two of them could connect and make each other feel so fucked out, out of control, yet still anchored firmly in their own skin.

His eyes burned from all the pressure, and he was good at this, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could do it for, and he really wanted to make it good for Gerard and not pussy out on him. He took as deep a breath as he could manage, and sucked harder, his tongue working the underside of Gerard's cock on every upstroke. He was reaching the point of slight panic, because it didn't usually take that long if he was sucking Gerard off, but then he felt it, the twitchiness, Gerard's erratic thrusts getting shorter.

"Frank, I'm gonna – _fuck_ –" 

Frank moaned and relaxed his throat. Gerard thrust one more time and cried out. His head thumped hard against the door as he shot down Frank's throat, his hand still clutching the base of his cock. Frank wanted to fist-pump, but he didn't want to break the mood. He felt awesome, though, and used, and all kinds of filthy things he could never get enough of with Gerard. He was so turned on, he couldn't see straight. He swallowed everything.

When Gerard finally pulled out, he slid down against the door and grabbed Frank's face between his hands and kissed him. It was messy, sloppy, Frank's tongue still kind of numb. Gerard's hands were tight around Frank's face, like he couldn't let go of Frank for even a second. Frank shook. He thought that he could probably come from just the kiss alone, because Gerard had a fucking amazing tongue, and he wasn't shy about kissing. He wasn't shy about letting Frank know what he wanted, about licking around Frank's tongue like it held all the answers to his questions, sucking on it, searching for _Frank_ in there somewhere, and Frank met him breath for breath.

What Frank really wanted now was for Gerard to fuck him. He was so ready for it, he could feel the anticipation rising, all of his special sexing senses tingling, and Gerard – Frank's brain fizzled out. Gerard had just _come._ In Frank's _mouth_. Because Frank _blew_ him, and now he wanted to be _fucked_ , and oh fucking fuck, Frank was a fucking _moron_. 

"Gee," he panted, breaking off their kiss, hands scrambling at Gerard’s chest. "Gee, I – fuck, I want you to fuck me, I just – I really, really need you to, and –" He broke off and stared at Gerard, wanting him to pick up the cue, to just _do_ something. 

Gerard looked completely glazed over, mouth still following Frank's, all, _where did you go?_ He paused after Frank had finished speaking. "Uh, that – that might be a problem," he panted, mouth slightly crooked and still wet with Frank's spit. "You kind of wrung me out, there." 

Frank bit his lip and moaned in frustration, because he really and truly didn't just want to get off. He wanted Gerard to bend him over and fuck him through the fucking floor, or wall, or any other available surface. 

Frank pawed more at Gerard's chest, looking up at him through his bangs, and bit his lip. "I know, I know, I just –" Fuck it, it was Gee, he could tell him anything. "I need something – I need _you_." 

Gerard petted Frank's hair, brought him closer. "I can suck you off, Frankie. I can make it so good for you," he whispered, looking him in the eye. Frank shuddered, but shook his head. 

"No, I – _fuck._ " He was desperate and also aware of the fact that he was kind of pathetic, turning down a motherfucking _blowjob_. But that wasn't what he wanted or what he needed. He looked to Gerard for answers, because he was way past being able to make anything happen. His dick throbbed.

"Hang on, I think – uh." Gerard broke off and his eyes widened a little. He worried his lip for a bit, and Frank got distracted watching his teeth and lips, and then Gerard leaned in, giving Frank a quick, hard kiss. "Wait here, just – just a sec, okay?" 

He struggled to his feet, pulling his jeans back up and zipping his fly. Frank watched him with wide eyes, because Gerard appeared to be opening the door and _leaving_ , what, and then Frank found himself alone, kneeling on the studio floor, hard and half out of his mind. 

It felt like Gerard was gone forever. Frank knew that he wasn’t nailed to the floor or anything, he could technically move, but he didn’t think he could actually make himself. It felt kind of like running a fever, his skin so aware of everything around it, the pressure of his t-shirt and jeans and shoes multiplied ten-fold. Even his sweat felt like an obstacle. The only reason he hadn’t gone off yet was that his hands felt tied down, unable to move. He waited.

He was just trying to figure out if he was being punked or something equally horrible when the door opened again and Gerard slid through and landed on his knees in front of him. He was clutching random stuff to his chest, like he was afraid of spilling it. Frank raised his gaze to Gerard's in question.

"I have an idea," Gerard explained, then clarified. "Several, actually." He eyed Frank with hunger that made Frank's stomach flip over, and lifted his chin. He sounded breathless when he added, "Take your shirt off, Frankie."

Frank fumbled for his shirt immediately, but it took him a little while to get enough coordination to tug it off his head, and he was hard and confused and _hard_ , and when he finally emerged from the other side, he saw that Gerard was holding a cock ring. 

"Uh –" Frank blinked, and threw his shirt down. It got stuck around his wrist and he shook it off with clumsy fingers. They'd used a cock ring once before, and it had been kind of really fun, but he had no idea why it was coming out to play now. He didn't think it was going to get Gerard harder faster, or anything. "Gee?" he croaked, looking away from the cock ring and up at Gerard's face. 

Gerard watched him from beneath sweaty bangs for a moment, then grinned and ran a quick tongue over his lips. "That's for you," he explained, and his voice sounded strained. Frank frowned and tried to work out the logic inherent in Gerard's plan, and then noticed the small purple dildo next to Gerard's knee on the floor. His cock jumped and his hips snapped up at nothing of their own accord. He thought he might die. 

"Gee, I –" 

Gerard looked at him with the sort of intensity he only really got on stage, under the strobe lights, fed by the energy of thousands of screaming fans. "C'mere," he rasped and dragged Frank over to him with both hands. "I can't fuck you yet, but I'm going to," he whispered in his ear, one arm supporting Frank's waist, the other pawing at the button on Frank's jeans. "I want to, so much, Frank, you have no fucking idea." Frank shuddered and melted against him, glad to have Gerard's arms at his back, knowing he could let go and Gerard would catch him. He was in a haze of _want_ , and every word that Gerard spoke in his ear drove a new spike of heat through his stomach. Frank whimpered and panted and hung on to Gerard's shirt for support.

"So," Gerard continued, having succeeded with the button, and making pretty quick work of Frank's zipper. "What I'm gonna do is – mmm, God." His palm pressed up against Frank's cock through his briefs and Frank gasped, his eyes stinging. "I'm gonna put this cock ring on you and fuck you with this dildo." Gerard lifted Frank up fully onto his knees and began slipping his underwear down off of his hips. Frank had no way of helping at this point. He tasted blood where his teeth were digging into his lip. He was going to explode, and Gerard was still talking, low and dirty and in fucking _charge_. "I'm gonna fuck you with it until I'm hard, and then I'm gonna fuck you myself, give you what you really want, Frankie." He brought his lips to Frank's ear, licked it, bit the lobe, licked it again, made Frank squirm and pant against him. "I wanna give you what you want."

Frank shuddered, turned his head and crushed his mouth against Gerard's, teeth clacking painfully. He didn't care, because Gerard's mouth opened under his instantly and their tongues collided. They didn't kiss like this on stage. They rarely kissed like this at all, in fact, kisses that bruised, that weren't for pleasure, and weren't for love. Frank had no other way of explaining to Gerard that there were times when he didn't trust himself not to crawl inside Gerard and never leave; melt into him and make them one. It scared the shit out of him, but there it was, a constant thrum under the surface.

Gerard's hand on the back of Frank's head was like a vise and they barely breathed except within each other. Frank pressed his hips against Gerard's belly and moaned, breaking off the kiss first. "Fuck, Gee, do it – do it now, I’m gonna - _fuck_ -"

After they managed to kick off all their clothing, bit by bit, waiting for Gerard to help him put on the fucking cock ring was the hardest part to get through. It was a weird and uncomfortable process, however careful Gerard was being fastening the Velcro strap, and after it was done, Frank almost recoiled at the pressure being contained, knowing he couldn't break through no matter what. He gulped and scrambled to find purchase against the wall, his palms sliding only a little bit with the sweat. For a moment, he wished they had a fucking _bed_ , or even a couch that wasn't obstructed by a million piece of equipment, but Gerard was naked right behind him, and Frank would settle for less.

"Jesus, Frank," Gerard breathed in his hear, and ran his hands all over Frank's back, down and up and across, scraping his blunt nails along the way. Frank squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. Gerard licked his way across, and Frank knew he was mapping out his ink, Frank's skin shivering from Faith down to his guns. Then Gerard's hands followed his tongue downward and found Frank's ass. Frank strained against the cock ring.

"Please, Gee, c'mon," he begged. His voice was shot, and his lungs felt like they were being squeezed out through his throat. 

"Yeah, yeah, hang on, just –" Gerard dropped his hands and then heard the sound of lube being uncapped, squeezed out, followed by the wet sounds of Gerard applying it to the dildo. Frank could picture the plastic purple toy shiny and greasy from the stuff Gerard was rubbing on it, and bit his lip. He had no idea how nobody had yet discovered that they both traveled with this shit, but thank God the van days were behind them. He kind of laughed at the image of them trying to do this in the back of the van, getting the disgusting upholstery even grosser, and then cried out when Gerard grabbed his hips in one hand, and slid one long finger inside him.

Frank shook and shook and couldn't stop. One finger was joined by another, and then Gerard added a third, knowing how far to go to drive Frank crazy without tipping him over the edge. Except this time, the edge would only be tipped when Gerard made it, and so he went further, tortured Frank with getting him ready, when Frank had been ready for fucking ever.

" _Gerard_ ," Frank panted in warning, even though it sounded a lot more feeble than it felt. "Come on, do it, just – _fuck_ –" He was vaguely aware of being in a ridiculous position, saying ridiculous things, but he was with Gerard, and Gerard was the kind of person you trusted with this shit. So Frank only thought about how much he wanted to be fucked, hard and fast, with Gerard controlling his every move. 

When Gerard finally wrapped his arm around Frank's middle, Frank thought his heart was going to thud right out of his chest. He hung his head and waited, watching the droplets of sweat fall down from his hair in slow motion. One – two – on three, Gerard pushed the dildo inside him and Frank heard his own voice breaking. It hurt a little, stretching him from the outside in, and then the pressure was replaced with heat, blooming outwards, rocking him in one smooth wave. He pressed down, moved his hips, tried to find a rhythm. It wasn't what he wanted, it was too cool and slim and plastic, but it was enough for now, and he rocked against it, panting.

Gerard's sweaty forehead was plastered to Frank's back, and his voice reverberated throughout Frank's skin, broken words catching in Frank's ears every now and then, like pebbles against water, "Jesus," and "fuck," and "so fucking hot" skimming across the surface of his back. "Frank," Gerard sighed over him, like a confused prayer.

Frank had no words left at all. All that he had was the driving rhythm of Gerard sliding the dildo in and out of him, bending Frank almost in half, pressed up bodily against him. Frank couldn't get enough purchase to push back like this, it wasn't quite enough and it was too much all at once. His fingers were going numb from the sheer force of his body being driven to the very edge and not being able to drop off. It took him a moment to figure out that it was his own voice that was making all those high-pitched gasps and broken moans.

Frank wanted more, though, he needed _more_ , he needed Gerard _in him_ already, and he struggled to turn around, to see if Gerard was ready yet, or at least close. Then Gerard sat up on his knees and put his mouth over Frank's ear. "Okay, Frankie. Hang on a moment, I'm gonna – I'm gonna take this out, okay?" Frank shuddered and scrambled up the wall as Gerard went down and dragged the dildo out of him with a careful hand. 

Now Frank was empty and wrung out and he still not fucking _done_. The air around him stood hot and still, and it reeked of them both, their breath and sweat combined in the heat of the studio. It occurred to him briefly that the guys were going to hate them after this, there wasn't even a fucking window they could open, but then he heard the rip of the condom wrapper, the sounds of Gerard slicking himself up. Frank bit his lip and forgot everything else.

Gerard wrapped both hands around Frank's sides the next moment, and pulled him in, lined them up. 

"Jesus, Frankie," Gerard panted against him, damp hair tickling Frank's neck. "You've got me so fucking hard already, like a fucking teenager, Christ –" 

"Thank fucking _God_ ," Frank answered fervently, and held on to the wall as Gerard pressed them closer and kissed his jaw, open-mouthed, tongue flickering out. Then Gerard breathed out, "C'mere," and pulled Frank down onto his cock in one movement.

Frank cried out, head falling back onto Gerard's shoulder. His hands scrambled backwards up over Gerard's shoulders, and he clung to him, tried to hold on. Gerard was so hard inside him, so hot and huge and _real_ , so fucking _good._ Frank stopped caring about the noises he was making, about how they were leaving the studio after this, about anything at all.

He rocked with Gerard, against him and towards him, gulping for air, and it was blood and guts and his entire fucking soul being fucked out of him. The pressure on his balls nearly too much for him to take anymore. He felt like crying, or beating his head against the wall, or never letting Gerard stop fucking him.

As he fucked him, Gerard spilled his dirtiest, most secret words into Frank's ears, words which would come back to him later, Frank knew, at the worst possible moments, to replay in his mind over and over and over and drive him fucking crazy with embarrassment and heat. 

"Yeah," he gasped back at Gerard in the here and now, "Yeah, yeah, _yeah_ ," because _yeah_ , Frank was the best fuck Gerard had ever had, you better fucking believe it, the tightest, the hottest, he _was_ fucking amazing, and Frank met Gerard's thrusts more and more greedily with each time, moved harder with every single word. Gerard's voice anchored him to the floor and in this room because his skin was ready to implode, all of his innards melting. It felt like they'd been fucking forever, and all the years of knowing each other, through the beginnings of their shitty bands, to the touring and the recording and more touring had all been illusions, because the entire time, they'd actually been right here, moving just like this, one up against the other, no air between them, melting and colliding and neverending.

"Frank," Gerard muttered after a while, voice tighter, the very edge of the precipice. Frank felt Gerard tighten his hold on him, ten hot fingers splayed across his hips and belly, and moaned. "Frank, I'm close, I'm – do it, come on, take it off –" 

Frank didn't need to be told twice. His fingers fumbled and shook, but when he reached for the Velcro, it gave way easily. Gerard slid a hand to Frank’s cock immediately, jerking him off hard and fast, and Frank's entire spine billowed in a boneless curve once – twice – he couldn't even catch a breath, his chest fucking _hurt_ from the pressure, and the next moment he was coming. He shook and shuddered and gasped and shot all over Gerard's hand and the wall and the floor until he could barely move, until Gerard shifted behind him and slammed him up against the wall, fucking him so hard, Frank’s brain shorted out completely.

He fumbled for Gerard’s thighs with one hand, hung on to the wall with the other and let it happen. He saw white behind his eyelids, his breath dragged heavily out of his chest, and he couldn’t make his throat work right. Frank managed to turn his head and bite down on Gerard's jaw and lick away the hurt and do it over and over and over again. Gerard's smell, the down-and-dirty sweat and come and spit overwhelmed him, and he thought for a crazy moment that he could get hard again just from that. He squeezed tighter around Gerard, told him, "Come, Gee, fucking do it, c’mon –" 

Gerard's voice broke right in Frank's ear and he shuddered against him, slamming his hips deep into Frank. His fingers dug into Frank's skin, leaving their mark. They shook together for a small eternity.

"Jesus, fuck, _Frank_ -" Gerard breathed out when he stopped shaking, then panted in the crook of Frank's neck. Frank felt Gerard's thighs trembling against his own. 

"Yeah," Frank rasped back, his heart beating with no rhythm, his skin shivery from the sudden cold. "Yeah," he whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut and grunted when Gerard held him up and slowly pulled out. It smarted, and Frank knew he was in for a rough night or two. Didn't matter, it was so fucking worth it. 

Letting Gerard go was difficult, but Frank couldn't really move beyond slumping down against his heels and resting his hands on his thighs. He stayed there, bent over himself, until he heard Gerard fumbling around behind him, probably getting rid of the condom, gathering up any other remaining evidence. Frank wanted to lie down, but kind of couldn't. He wanted to maybe get dressed, get out into the relatively fresh air of the rest of the bus, at least, but it required the sort of movement he was incapable of performing at the moment.

Gerard shuffled up to him, then turned Frank around enough to bring their lips together. His eyes were huge, Frank thought, like they were searching for more than they could see in Frank. Frank watched him carefully back, trying to swallow through the soreness in his throat. 

"Jesus, Frankie," Gerard breathed and kissed him again, eyes closed, sweet and lingering. Their lips were two pairs that fit seamlessly together. Frank closed his own eyes and concentrated on the fleeting taste. "God. Where did that – what did you - _fuck,_ " Gerard finally managed, and sat back on his haunches, still holding Frank's face between his hands. He looked both tender and stunned and not a small part of Frank felt stupid pride and quiet joy at having done that to him. 

The larger part of him felt tired and lazy and he was really kind of out of it now, plus his ass hurt. Frank wanted to tell Gerard that he was fucking crazy about him, or maybe just crazy, that his heart was a jumble of stuff rattling around that he couldn't even begin to parse through but that he was so fucking happy Gee was there with him at all, and that Pete fucking Wentz had come asking him, _Frank_ , of all people, about the best ways to blow Gee's little brother and Frank had fucking helped him, that Frank was tired and wanted another nap and he also wanted a shower and a real bed and a weekend, maybe, too, a real one, and possibly a cigarette. 

"I just –" he started to explain, then licked his dry lips. "Fuck, _Gee_ ," he said instead, and fell face-first into Gerard’s chest. He felt Gerard's quiet laugh underneath him, not mean, just amused, happy maybe, and he wanted to lift up his face and do something stupid, like lick Gerard’s nose, or bite his chin, or something, but he was too tired.

In the end, it was Gerard who'd pulled him up gently and got them both more or less dressed, at least enough to scrape by the public decency laws, and then walked Frank down the bus, pushed him into his bunk, head first. 

Frank flopped around for a moment, getting all of his limbs into a comfortable position, wincing at all the different points of soreness, and then watched as Gerard climbed in after him and shut the curtain. The bus was silent, and the air in the rest of it did feel fresher. It was nice. Frank rolled onto his side and nosed Gerard's chest for a little while, petting his side. 

"You staying?" he yawned. His lips were sore, and his knees and hips cracked when he stretched. He thought he could sleep for about a hundred hours, but he'd settle for a couple before sound check. He wondered how he was going to play a show, being a wreck and all. 

Gerard sighed deeply enough for Frank to feel it, his fingers bristling against the short hairs on the back of Frank's skull. "I wish, but I'd promised Bob to help him out with merch and shit, plus I wanted to check on Mikey." 

"Oh," Frank answered and squeezed Gerard's side tighter. "Okay." He vaguely wondered if Pete Wentz had found Mikey yet, and if he had, whether or not he was done doing him by now. He wondered what Gerard would think about _that,_ but he didn't want to ask.

"You sleep, though, all right? We've got a show to play and crap," Gerard said, attempting his best stern voice. His fingers skittered over Frank's vertebrae, one by one. Frank felt hazy and good. He smiled up at Gerard without opening his eyes.

"I'm such a good lay, Gee, you have no fucking idea," he told him, nosing up to the hollow of Gerard’s neck. 

Gerard's chest shook a little against him. "No idea at all, obviously," Gerard giggled in that quiet fond way we had. "It's a good thing I've got you to tell me."

"Damn straight." Frank felt a light kiss at his temple, a tiny squeeze on his hip, but he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He was floating and Gee was floating with him, and then he was on a boat with a pirate flag on it and Mikey was sitting across from him, wearing an eye-patch and eating a burger. Frank threw up the sails and they ice-skated away towards the shore on Bob's whale-back.

*

Someone poked him awake, and when Frank opened his eyes and looked up, he saw that the sun was starting to set. "Wha –" He twisted around towards the source of the poking and came face to face with Mikey. "Is it time for sound check?" he asked, and abruptly yawned in Mikey's face. He winced and made an apologetic face. He smelled pretty awful.

"Ugh, gross," Mikey complained, but then sidled up next to Frank and nudged him over. "Move." 

Frank grumbled and when he tried to move further towards the wall, his entire body rebelled in protest, and all the pain came alive. Absolutely everything hurt, but it was his knees that were fucking killing him the most. "Oh, shit," he breathed before he could stop himself.

"What's wrong?" Mikey asked, all concerned as he crowded into Frank's space and bumped his bony knees against Frank's shins. "You sick again?" 

Frank finally managed to slide all the way over to the wall, if only to escape Mikey's knees poking him, and tried to lie, "Nah, just partied a little too hard last night, is all." 

Mikey arched an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Gee just said you were worn out, didn't realize it was a hangover." 

Frank colored. It was worse, now, even _pretending_ to be drinking and partying during the day, with Gee being so fucking amazing with his sobriety, and Mikey being all - Mikey. He measured his chances, then scrunched up his nose and shook his head. 

"Nah, just – yeah, getting over the cold and crap. Not – didn't party, or anything." He petered out, feeling all sorts of dumb. 

Mikey nodded in a sort of satisfied way. Frank wondered why Mikey had settled in so firmly in his bunk when they were about to get picked up for sound check, and then it hit him. He had to almost physically restrain the questions about to tumble out of his mouth, and he really, really hoped that Mikey would come out with the Pete Wentz stuff himself, because Frank had already promised both himself and the fucking Wentz they would never speak of their conversation, ever, to anyone.

He waited for Mikey to start talking, pretending to be nonchalant and cool and shit. Mikey just lay next to him, head pillowed on his arm, pale bony elbow sticking out dangerously close to Frank's eyes. He reminded Frank of a little kid with a secret he wasn't sure who to trust with. He was looking not quite at Frank, gaze skittish and shy and Frank was going to _burst_ if Mikey didn't start talking soon, and when another silent moment passed, Frank reached out and poked him in the chest.

"What is up, Mikeyway?"

Mikey totally did that thing where he pretended not to understand, _why, whatever do you mean, Frank?_ written all over his face. But then he kind of sagged inward, looked down at Frank's sheet and plucked at it with his fingers. "So, I have this – thing," he began, and then lowered his voice for the next part. "With – someone. I have a thing with someone." 

Frank had a horrible poker face, so he tried sliding into the shadows of the blinds. It didn't really work, and Mikey totally clocked him trying to hide his face and frowned in suspicion. "Why are you moving away?"

"What thing?" Frank deflected, but Mikey had already caught him.

"Hey, what do you know?" he asked, lifting up off his elbow. "You _know_ something, you totally do!" 

"I think your phone is buzzing!" Frank exclaimed in a panic. It worked – Mikey frowned and leaned backwards, sticking his hand in his pocket and checking his Sidekick. He flipped it open, and hey, Frank's lie was totally the truth, because Mikey had received a text. He read it with a dopey look on his face, and Frank knew an out when he saw one.

"I don't have to _know_ anything," he stated proudly as Mikey typed a quick reply back. "Look at your dumb face, you've totally had a _thing_ for weeks now." Which was actually kind of true. Just because they'd never actually talked about it, didn't mean Frank had no idea what was going on. Earlier in the day when Pete Wentz had stalked him out like the creepy fucking asshole that he was, Frank hadn't been surprised about the Mikey revelation. He was mostly trying to figure out how he'd wound up being Pete Wentz's fucking gay sex counselor in the scenario, but he wasn't surprised at the reason. Hey, anything for Mikey, he thought, and grinned at the look on Mikey's face now, torn between annoyance and confusion and the totally girly desire of wanting to just _tell_ someone. Frank knew that face incredibly well. He'd watched it in the mirror all those months back, and he still spotted it on his face now and then in pictures and various concert footage.

Mikey scrunched up his nose and asked, voice going so quiet, Frank had to strain forward to catch the words. "Know who it is?"

Frank nodded silently and didn't elaborate.

Mikey ducked his head and bit his lip. It was bizarre how much he mirrored Gerard in so many things, yet was completely separate and different and all his own. Frank was kind of really grateful for that. 

They were quiet for so long, Frank wondered if Mikey was going to say anything, like, ever again, but when Mikey took a breath, it all came tumbling out in a furious whisper, the Mikeyway approach to confessions. "He's just, I don't know, he's never been with a guy before, but it's like – it's like, he doesn't care I'm a guy? Or, no, he _does_ , but it isn't that, and he – oh, fuck, Frank, he totally blew me in a van today." That last part he'd mumbled into the crook of his own elbow, and Frank had to really work at stopping himself laughing, because Mikey's fucking _ears_ had gone red, and apparently, Frank had totally encouraged Pete Wentz to drop below the waist, what do you know. Frank was impressed that the guy hadn't settled for a handjob and apparently, just fucking went for it. He couldn't help admiring that a little. 

He worked at making his face mostly impassive while Mikey drew up his knees to his chest and didn't look at Frank at all.

"Dude, that's _awesome_ ," Frank tried to reassure him once he'd gotten control over his voice. Mikey looked up at him with a skeptical look. "No, seriously," Frank continued. He screwed up his eyes. He didn't know how to explain to Mikey just how awesome it was that Pete had blown him without coming out with all the background info and sounding creepy to boot, but he wanted to reassure him that it was totally okay to be crazy about the guy. Even if it was Pete Wentz. "Listen, it's awesome because the dude's willing to, like, cross all kinds of boundaries to get you to be with him. That's fucking ridiculous, okay? In a _good_ way," he rushed to explain.

Mikey unthawed a little, and looked at him expectantly. It took Frank a while to get it, but then he caught on and grinned. "How was it?" 

Mikey's grin came out lop-sided. "Awesome." 

"Oh, yeah?" Frank was half-fascinated and half-horrified. He kind of wanted to know more, out of sheer morbid curiosity, and he kind of hadn't been lying at all when he told Pete that he didn't ever want to hear about it, ever. But he had to ask. "Uh, did you seriously let yourself be his first blow job, with all his huge teeth?" 

Mikey's eyes widened, like it hadn't even occurred to him, or something. "Huh. It wasn't a problem?" he answered, sounding almost surprised. 

"Huh," Frank echoed, and added before he could stop himself. "I wonder where he learned that," because seriously, Frank hadn't even gotten to the teeth yet before Pete ran off the bus. Then he clamped his mouth shut. _Oh shit._

But Mikey just gave him a look like he was a crazy person and turned over onto his back, sighing. "Some people just have a natural aptitude for these things." 

Frank snorted. He kind of maybe knew all about that, but there were some things you just didn't share with a guy whose brother you were boning and, maybe, also, totally in love with. It was one of their rules, in fact, which Mikey actually put down in writing back when Frank and Gerard had first started their own thing.

>   
>  _  
>  **You will not talk about, make any references to, or describe to me in any way, boning my brother. There will be no kissy faces or licking or biting in my presence. Follow these rules, and your GameBoy stays intact.**   
>  _   
> 

>   
> _**-mw.**_

He'd written it in sharpie on a page ripped out of one of Gerard's sketchbooks and stuck it to the top of Frank's bunk one day. Frank had a lot of trouble obeying some of these rules on days that ended with "y" but he tried, he really did. Now didn't seem like a good time to bring up the fact that his throat was killing him from Gerard fucking his mouth earlier, or that his ass was going to be sore for days from the pounding Gerard had given him afterwards.

Frank just smiled and enjoyed lying in his bunk, all his joints creaking a little bit, with Mikey right there, both of them just sharing in each other's air of contentment. There was enough of it for them both, Frank realized, and that was kind of a nice thought to revel in.

Gee came to get them a few minutes later. His hair was a total mess and his neck was already covered in writing and he smelled like cigarettes. He looked so fucking good, with his bleached-on-top skunk hair, and huge green eyes twinkling in Frank's direction. Gerard licked his lower lip when Mikey was turned away, and Frank felt like Gee's gaze was burning holes in his very skin. He grinned back at him.

"What, show time already?"

It was only sound check, they wouldn't go on for at least an hour yet, but Gerard liked being ready, Frank knew. 

The next moment, Gerard broke Frank's gaze, snapped his gum, and started hollering at him and Mikey about them being teeny tiny girls who liked to play dress-up in their mother's attic. Mikey sat up and hollered back that at least it wasn't the basement, and they weren't the ones who'd played dress-up in real life, while in college, as _adults_ , and Frank just followed them outside, giggling. Bob and Ray were already at the site, always way more prepared than either of the Ways or him could ever hope to be.

There were strains of guitars and drums and voices reaching Frank's ears from all sides, the kind of twenty-first century symphony you could only get on tours like this, in fields and parking lots littered with white tents and dark clothing, laughter and sweat.

Gerard reached back and found Frank's hand, squeezed his fingers quickly and let go. 

Frank fucking loved his boys, he really did.


End file.
